


Do I Really Have to Say I Love You?

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha attempts to confess her love to Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Words are Overrated

It would be a surprise to most that the notorious Black Widow had a soft spot for romance, but that was the truth of it. It was also true that she hadn’t been the recipient of much romance at all in her life. Having gone from an orphaned child to a young spy thrown into an arranged marriage to the Red Room’s star assassin to the woman she was today, she simply didn’t have time for romance. She didn’t have time for love. Her training didn’t permit anything of the sort anyway.

Except that she had fallen in love several times throughout her life. She had been in love with her American, her James. Maybe their relationship hadn’t been what it could have been, but they needed each other and it was their relationship that kept them both going, even if it was only when they let him out of his frozen state. Natasha had also been in love with Clint, despite what she said to Loki about him. He was her savior. Clint showed her how to live beyond the Red Room, how to live as her own person. He was the first person to ever tell her that she had a choice. But even her relationship with him had been faulty because she wasn’t really _her_ the whole time. She’d once had sex with him in the aftermath of a nightmare so terrifying that she’d held a knife to his throat the whole time. That didn’t cheapen what they had, but it certainly meant that their relationship wasn’t _normal_ and, after having a life that was not normal in the worst ways, maybe that was what Natasha wanted.

And so, even though she’d fallen into bed with Steve without planning to fall for him, she had. It had been nearly three months since they first began dancing around one another, teasing and touching and flirting nearly every minute they were together. It all came to a head after a particularly bad battle, at which point Steve shoved her right up against a wall and kissed her hard enough to make her knees weak, which was quite an accomplishment in itself. After that, everything had kind of fallen right into place. They ate together, sparred together, watched movies together and slept together. She even modeled for him a few times, sprawled out in bed with nothing but the sheets wrapped around her. It was the most ordinary relationship Natasha had ever had and to her surprise, she loved it. It was _nice_ to know that she was coming home to welcoming arms and a warm bed.

The realization that she was in love with Steve came very quickly for Natasha. They'd been sleeping together for a while by then, on and off depending on the missions they were assigned to and so on, and she was standing in the shower one morning when it hit her. It wasn't even that much of a shock- just something that came to her unbidden, made her stop, her fingers still bunched in her soapy hair, and swear out loud.

“What was that?” he called from outside the shower, where he was likely brushing his teeth and shaving for the day.

“Nothing!”

Well, the proper thing to do was tell him that she loved him. Obviously making those kind of confessions was an important step in a relationship and, by coincidence, a step Natasha had never made before. Men confessed to her, not the other way around. But this was Steve, after all, and maybe Steve was a special case because he didn't seem to be confessing a damn thing, always seeming so _content_ with the way they were. To be honest, she never even considered whether or not he loved her back.

What Natasha also hadn't considered was the fact that Steve was probably one of the most obtuse people she'd ever encountered. She _should have_ , because getting him to pick up on her flirting involved kissing him in the middle of a sentence when she got fed up and wanted to move things along, but she hadn't. As she thought about what grand gesture she might be able to use to tell him what she had to, about a million and one ideas came to her. After a lifetime of watching romantic comedies and over the top romance (not to mention reading the trashy novels she loved so much), Natasha was about ready to throw rose petals in the air, lay naked on a bed and tell him to make love to her.

But that wasn't going to happen.

No, she had to come up with something just a bit less tacky and a bit more exciting. Because this was a big thing, right? Right. And whoever said that saying the words was the way to go? Alright, that might just be out of discomfort, but Steve knew her very well. He should be able to do this without her actually _saying_ that she loved him.

The first thing she did to let him know was the most obvious thing she could think of (besides the grown up thing, which would be _telling_ him). That night, which happened to be a Friday, when she knew he was sitting in his living room watching TV, she took the elevator down wearing nothing but one of his stolen t-shirts and made sure he was alone before stripping completely and sauntering in. Entirely bare, she padded into the room and right past the television, casually sitting down on the sofa beside him and crossing her legs, one over the other.

“What are we watching?” She turned to give him an innocent look and found Steve already staring back at her, remote still in hand like he'd frozen in time (haha- get it?). “Steve?” she asked sweetly. “What's wrong?”

Like he was being pulled into it unwillingly, Steve moved closer, slipped his arms under her and effortlessly lifted her up so he could place her on the coffee table instead. Liking his general direction, Natasha leaned back and spread her legs invitingly, earning a deep groan and the best seat in the house while Steve pulled off his shirt and shoved his jeans down right there in the living room. Perfect.

In the end, both Natasha and Steve came out of that weekend significantly worse for wear on a physical level, but smiling from ear to ear and totally at ease for several days afterward. The only problem was that nothing felt _different_ , and Natasha had always assumed that after such a fiery, passionate confession, something would change a little bit. She expected some kind of fireworks or… or a deep sense of contentment. All that changed was that they had to buy a new bed for Steve’s room and a new coffee table for the living room.

Apparently, her work wasn’t done. Maybe in order to tell him something she wouldn’t normally be telling him, she would have to get out of her comfort zone. It was with that spirit that she greeted him when he came home one evening, rushing over to meet him right there at the door and leaning up to give him a peck on the lips. If that alone wasn’t enough of a sign, she figured, then the fact that she was wearing an apron was definitely going to do it.

“Go get comfortable,” she said smoothly, patting his chest. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” She slid away from him before he could actually ask the question that was written all over his face, padding back into the kitchen to finish up her attempt at making their dinner for once. She did notice him poking his head into the kitchen at some point and smiled warmly, batting her eyelashes like she was playing a role until he smiled (somewhat suspiciously) and went away.

The table was impeccably set, the wine chilled… and Natasha was pretty sure that the chicken she was making was not supposed to look like it did. Swearing in Russian, she started muttering to herself as she got it out of the dish and sliced it. Well, at least it was cooked. A bit too much, but no one would get sick, so she considered it a win. She was cut off again when Steve slipped into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, clearly amused by her profanity and the skilled, yet very aggressive way she was currently carving up the overdone chicken. She turned to look at him and blinked, pressing her lips together.

“I’ve got everything under control,” she answered coolly, casually pointing the knife in his direction. A little white lie never hurt anyone. “You can pour the wine, though.” He glanced at the counter for a moment before making his way to the table and doing as she asked. Just a few minutes later, after several more swears, Natasha proudly carried a tray of sliced chicken breast, along with roasted potatoes and carrots, to the table. “Dig in,” she said, trying and failing to hide how proud she was of the fact that she’d made a _whole meal_.

Now, Natasha wasn’t an expert, but she knew when food was bland… and her food was bland. Without much seasoning and cooked to the point where it was hard to swallow, her chicken left _a lot_ to be desired. And bless him, Steve choked down every morsel he’d taken onto his plate, gushing over how good it was and how great it was to have a home cooked meal. ‘That’s why I love him,’ she thought to herself. He even took a second helping of everything.

The next day, after they’d worked off their dinner in a number of interesting ways, Natasha expected that change to make itself known. What she got was a gloriously naked Steve stretching and grumbling as he made his way into the shower as usual before brushing his teeth, shaving and pecking her on the lips as he headed out the door. It was all very domestic and that was great, but… where was everything else? And furthermore, what exactly was the 'everything else' that she wanted?

Slightly frustrated with Steve’s inability to understand what she was trying to tell him, Natasha decided to do something she didn't do very often and ask for help. But she _couldn't_ go to Clint, so she decided to seek out Pepper. They got along pretty well, though she supposed that had a lot to do with commiserating over the joint stupidity of the men in their immediate vicinity sometimes. Either way, she approached Pepper in the morning and asked to speak to her in confidence. Quite honestly, she was surprised that Pepper took the whole thing in without being all that shocked at all. Maybe she'd be rendered numb to this kind of thing thanks to years of working with Tony.

“I think if you just open up and let him see you in a vulnerable way, you might get through to him,” she advised. “Let him know that you're trying to be with him in a way you aren't with anyone else.”

Opening up was harder than she made it sound, but Natasha asked a question or two, took the advice to heart and returned to her room to think. Steve knew a lot about her already. He knew how she took her coffee (black with a heap of sugar), how she curled up into a ball at night, that she hummed to herself in the shower, that she didn't actually hate Tony and that she had a soft spot for children. He even knew some things about her past, like the only memory she had of her mother. What else could she tell him?

The answer to that question actually came late one night, while she was laying beside a snoring super-soldier and tracing the muscles on his back with the tips of her fingers. Just like her attempts to confess, she didn't have to _tell_ him anything; she could _show_ him.

The next day, she let him leave in the morning as usual, had a very light breakfast and set about trying to find what she needed to let him know he was special to her. It took two hours to dig through her closet, through the inordinate amount of clothing and shoes and weapons until she found the box she was looking for. Even looking at the fine, pink satin of her ballet shoes made her heart flutter. It had been such a long time since she'd allowed herself the rush that came with dancing, twirling and leaping and gliding over a floor by herself or with a company. There was nothing else like it. Sometimes killing just didn't possess the same artistic appeal.

Once she'd repaired her shoes, she pulled out white tights, a black leotard and a thin black skirt as well, tying that around her waist when she was ready. She practiced for a while, the stress of being back on her toes making her legs ache and sweat bead on her forehead, but it felt so exhilarating at the same time that she couldn't possibly complain. In a hardly used room down near the gym, she grasped the ballet bars near the mirrored walls and dipped down, stretching and weaving and generally just getting ready for him. She'd sent a message earlier in the day for Steve to meet her there at a specific time.

By the time he was supposed to arrive, Natasha had gone through the routine she wanted to perform for him- Odette's first dance from Swan Lake. She was more suited to the other role, the daring movements of the black swan, as it were, but this was about love. She wanted to show him  _love_ , not lust. She shifted her weight from foot to foot by the piano until he stepped into the room, giving her a surprised look. 

“Is it Halloween already?” he quipped, stepping up to her and reaching out to touch the light material of her skirt. Natasha smiled and shook her head, touching his chest and looking up at him in an attempt to calm her own nerves. No one, not even Clint, had ever seen her dance like this. “Nat? What's all this about?”

Natasha offered him another smile and leaned up, kissing his cheek. “I just wanted to show you another side of me,” she explained. “I trust you enough to see this. Go sit over there, on the floor.” He did as he was told and Natasha got into position, looking up at the ceiling so JARVIS knew to start playing her song. As sweet music filled the room, she began to dance, moving smoothly and precisely about the room as she tried her best to convey what Odette would be feeling; uncertainty, attraction, caution, maybe even a little fear. Natasha was certainly feeling all those things concerning this relationship, after all. When she was done, she took a little bow and slid off her toes to Steve applauding from his seat on the floor.

“That was amazing!” he praised, and she really couldn't help the way it made her smile. She was out of breath and sweating, but she felt.. unbelievable. Natasha made a vow to herself that she would dance more often, even if it was only for her own sanity. Padding over to Steve, she gracefully moved onto his lap and he reverently ran his hands over her tights, smiling brightly. “You're a real dancer. I shouldn't even be surprised, based on how you move, but God.. Nat, that was seriously great.” 

She kissed him, one hand against his cheek, and hoped that this time the message had come through loud and clear. As he untied her skirt, peeled off her tights and helped her out of her leotard so they could take advantage of a locked room with mirrored walls, she figured it had.

But still, the next day felt exactly the same. Steve left in the morning and Natasha laid there in his bed, thinking. What was missing? She already had him, already shared his bed every night, already tried to show him that she loved him. And yes, Steve did little things for her, like pick up her favorite desserts on the way home or leave her little drawings on the kitchen table in the morning, but... there was something else she wanted and she just couldn't figure it out.

Maybe... she wanted to hear it.

Well, fine. Natasha wasn't going to back down from this just because she actually had to say the words to him in order to hear it back. She was going to say it. The only question was  _when_ she would say it. Did it have to be in the middle of some romantic moment? Because they didn't have many of those. Should she wait until he was inside of her? Until he was leaving in the morning? Until they were going to sleep at night? It was just another decision, just another impossible thing to know for sure. 

Wait! They were going to a charity ball in just a few days. She could tell him then, while they were dancing and enjoying the atmosphere that came with a big, fancy party. She'd tell him while she was in his arms, or out on the balcony with a view of the city below them. That sounded perfect, didn't it?

As she got ready that night, she wondered if this was how girls felt before their senior proms, getting all dolled up for a night of dancing with someone they really, really liked. She’d never been to a prom, obviously. Before this, she hadn’t really wondered what it would be like.

But when Natasha entered the living room to meet him, already dressed in her gown, she felt like she might have if she’d ever been invited to a prom. The gown itself was a floor-length number made of deep purple satin with a jeweled piece that tied around her neck, leaving the back completely open. She’d bought it with input from Pepper, who wore a similar dress the first time she and Tony had danced together. Steve smiled, raising his eyebrows and even letting out a little whistle as he looked her up and down, taking her hand to help her spin around for him and earning a soft laugh as well.

“Nat, you look… I mean, wow.” If there was ever a time to blush, it would have been right then. Natasha stepped up to him and leaned her head back for a kiss that he gave without hesitation; his big hand sprawled out just over the curve of her behind.

“You too,” she murmured, idly straightening out his bow tie. “You clean up very nicely.” They left together and, though she hid it well, the fact that Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off her made Natasha incredibly happy. When they arrived, the other members of the team were already there; some with dates, some without. Personally, all Natasha wanted to do was dance. With that in mind, she took Steve’s hand and urged him forward, eventually getting him onto the dance floor and laying her arm over his, her other hand on his shoulder.

Steve had to count the steps at first, but he eventually grew more confident and kept his head up, smiling wide like he’d never danced before. Natasha thought it was infuriatingly adorable and patiently waited for him to be able to actually dance with her, their eyes locked. As the music played and she helped him through a faster number, she kept thinking that now would be a perfect time. No, _now._ No, how about _now_ , but.. she didn't say anything. Even when they moved onto the balcony later on, champagne in hand, the city sparking below them, she couldn't say it. Did that mean she didn't feel it?

That night, while he carefully undressed her and she tore off his suit, Natasha kept thinking about it. She did love him. She wouldn't even think of such a thing unless it was true, so why couldn't she just say it? Laying beside him that night having already pulled on his t-shirt because she was a little chilly, she wondered if it might be because making grand declarations of love really wasn't  _her_ , and she had a feeling it wasn't him either. It didn't feel right. 

She fell asleep that night telling herself that she would just say it the next time she could, and she would stop making a big deal out of it. Maybe that way, it would stop  _being_ a big deal and she could go through with it. The next morning, Natasha woke up when Steve moved away from her, pulling on his pajama bottoms and heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth and so on. On a whim, she decided to follow him.

Natasha walked into the bathroom a moment later, yawning widely and readjusting Steve's shirt so she could grab for her toothbrush and toothpaste, muttering a small 'good morning' before sticking it into her mouth. With her curls a wild mess on top of her head, she glanced to Steve by way of the mirror and mentally shrugged. What was wrong with right now? She finished her brushing and took the toothbrush out to rinse it off as he began to shave, his face covered with white cream.

“Oh, by the way,” she said casually, setting her toothbrush aside and mumbling through the foam in her mouth. “I'm kind of in love with you. Okay?” Leaning down, she took a sip of water, rinsed and spat into the sink, running the water for a moment before patting Steve's shoulder and heading back into the bedroom. Poor Steve was left there, half shaven and blinking after her.

“Wait. You're _what_?”


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha smiled widely to herself as she padded back into the bedroom. She'd finally done it. After what seemed like ages and ages of trying, she'd admitted to Steve that she loved him, that she was _in love_ with him. It was freeing, in a way, and yet her heart was beating way too fast and her hands were kind of clammy like she was nervous... Because she was. She was nervous. Why?

Because despite how certain she was of her own feelings, she'd never given a single thought to whether or not Steve  _returned_ them. Maybe that should have been something she considered in the first place, huh? Maybe she should have just for  _once_ thought about the other person involved. Stupid.

There was a chance, though, that he did feel the same. There was a chance that when she turned to face him, knowing he'd quickly finished up and padded out to speak to her, he would be smiling. Maybe he loved her back. Maybe he'd take her in his arms and press their lips together, sweep her right off her feet and make love to her right--

“Nat...”

Or maybe not. It didn't take more than that single utterance of her name to let her know that she'd messed up. This was why people didn't confess, because there was no guarantee that the other person returned their feelings. But she was the Black Widow. She wasn't going to run away from this. Turning around, she looked up at him and waited, her face entirely unreadable, but he clearly didn't know what to say. She'd help him out.

“It's okay,” she lied. “You don't have to say it back.” 

It wasn't okay. Why didn't he love her? Beyond the obvious things, of course, like the fact that she was a cold, heartless assassin who manipulated people for a living. Beyond that, she could have sworn that she'd really felt it between them. They had such a good time together! But did he care about her at all? Or was he just.. having fun? She couldn't possibly fault him for that. After all, she'd gone into this expecting 'just fun', not a relationship.

And poor Steve. The guy honestly looked like he was distraught, horrified that he couldn't return the sentiment and make her smile again. He was sweet that way, always trying to do the right thing.

“Steve,” she said firmly, not making any move to touch him simply because she didn't want to, though she knew it might help in trying to reaffirm what she was saying. “It's okay.” Before he had time to respond, she took a step back and grabbed her clothing off the floor where she'd left them, gathering it to her chest. “I'll see you later.” Even though it hurt her to do it, she quickly darted forward and kissed his cheek before slipping out of the room and making her way back to her own floor. 

What was she going to do? Could a relationship get past something like this, where the woman confessed and the man didn't feel it? The real question was... Would Natasha keep doing this to herself when she knew Steve didn't love her? It turned out that the answer to that question was simple: Yes. Yes, she would just act like nothing had changed, continue their relationship the way it was and hope that one day, he could say it back.

That night, after spending most of the day on her own, Natasha decided that moping around in her room wasn't doing anyone any good. It was movie night anyway, so she dressed in tights and a tank top and padded down to the main floor, where the others were already gathered in front of the television and fighting over which movie they would watch that night. To her credit, she made her way over to the couch and sat down as usual, throwing her legs over Steve's lap and offering him a casual smile when he looked over at her. But Steve wasn't smiling, and that put her on edge. He did, however, let his hands rest as they usually did- one on her thigh, the other on her upper calf, thumb lightly stroking just below her knee. At least the lights went down when the movie started, so Natasha didn't have to focus on the tensed line of his jaw.

Honestly, it hurt more than she expected it to. As she sat there, leaning her head back against the arm of the sofa, Natasha tried to reason that loving wasn't conditional upon whether or not the other person returned that love. Unrequited love was absolutely a thing- she'd just never expected it to happen to her. But regardless of whether or not he was required to love her in return, she found that she was dealing with a different kind of heartache than she'd experienced before. In the past, loss was the main catalyst. Losing her parents, losing her freedom to choose, losing James, nearly losing Clint-- all those things made her chest ache uncomfortably. This was different. She wasn't at risk of losing someone because Steve hadn't gone anywhere. As far as she knew, they were still together the way they had been before. What made her chest ache this time was the desire to  _have_ someone. 

That night, when they returned to his room, Natasha went up to him as usual and pressed against him, letting her hands wander over the hem of his tshirt. He stopped her hands. Surprised, she looked up at him and cocked her head to the side in a silent question. “Not tonight,” he said quietly, and Natasha felt like she was defective. Her worth wasn't ever dictated by how interesting or arousing or attractive a man found her, but if she didn't have Steve in her bed at this point, she might as well not have him at all.

Despite her doubts, she nodded and faked a smile rather badly, stepping away from him in favor of just crawling under the covers and resting her head on her pillow, facing the window. Was this because of what she'd admitted to? Why did it matter? She'd made her peace with it, so why should he care? He could still sleep with her. But she heard him sigh as he got undressed, eventually laying down beside her and remaining on his back regardless of the fact that she wouldn't look at him. Natasha would be lying if she said she got any sleep that night.

Around three, she gave up and moved off the bed, leaving a sleeping soldier in his place beside her and heading into the bathroom. Staring at her reflection, she had to wonder why it was that she was in this position. Then again, if he'd confessed to her and she hadn't loved him back, she knew she would have reacted similarly. The thing was that Steve was supposed to be  _better_ than her. Maybe he was only with her because she was a good lay. Maybe there was more to Steve than even she realized. Maybe he wasn't the man she thought she knew. Maybe---

“Hey.” A sleepy voice interrupted her thoughts just as an equally rough looking soldier pushed the door open and rubbed at his eyes in the doorway. “You okay? It's late.” Immediately snapping to attention, Natasha turned on her heel and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Do you even care if I'm not okay?” Maybe that was too bold. Steve tensed and let his hand fall to his side, frowning in clear concern based on the little wrinkle between his eyes.

As he stepped closer, Natasha reflexively calculated all the different ways she could put him down if she got too upset and didn't want him to see that. “Of course I care,” he said sincerely- he really wasn't capable of lying to her. “Nat, if this is about.. what you said this morning, I want you to know that I--”

Natasha shook her head, cutting him off with a hand pressed fiercely over his mouth. “Don't,” she warned. “Don't stand there and tell me that you care about me so much as a friend, but just don't see me  _that way_ . Because I don't want to hear stupid things coming from someone I know isn't that stupid. Please remember that hitting your head on the tile in here will be  _very_ painful.” 

Steve pulled her hand away and tried again. “I was going to say that when you said what you said this morning, I just kind of--”

“\--Panicked, I know.” She stalked out of the bathroom and raked a hand through her messy curls. “But you're supposed to be _better_. You're supposed to want me for me and not just because I'm good in bed because you're different and I can't stand you pushing me away just because I was _stupid_ enough to think that you--”

Steve followed, trying to cut in multiple times before he lost his patience and-- “Will you shut up for a second?!” Steve's tone was firm and loud, like he might use in the middle of a group fight or a really loud battle. Natasha shut up, but she glared daggers up at him and stepped closer, pointing one finger in his face.

“Why should I?” she asked in a low tone. “Why should I stand here and listen to what you have to say when you just--”

“Because I love you, you psycho!” 

Natasha frowned further, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Don't  _lie_ ,” she warned, watching him very carefully, even as he rolled his eyes and threw his hands up.

“Have I _ever_ been able to lie to you? Honestly, in the time you've known me, have I _ever..._ Oh, just fuck it.” He stepped close again, pushing her hand out of the way and bending down to kiss her, pressing their lips together and sliding his arms around her waist to lift her up, leaning back a little when her feet left the ground. When their lips parted, Steve huffed and shook his head at a rather sheepish Natasha. “I love you. Okay? I panicked this morning and I felt bad about it all day, but then you were so.. I mean, you seemed to just accept that I didn't, so I figured maybe you hadn't really meant it, or you didn't care. I was trying to tell you, I promise.”

Natasha laughed.  _He'd_ been trying to tell  _her_ ? “You love me,” she repeated quietly, letting her arms remain loosely wrapped around his shoulders when he set her down on her feet. He loved her. Steve loved  _her_ . Smiling rather widely, especially for her, Natasha jumped up and secured her arms around his neck, dragging him down so she could cover his face with kisses, from his lips to his brows to his jaw and his nose. “I love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
